Artifact: The Saber's Odyssey
by VaderLVR
Summary: Adding yet another item to his collection of Jedi artifacts, Darth Vader finds this new addition somewhat unsettling in its familiarity. Laster posts will follow the saber's journey from the hands of a Jedi to the hands of a Sith.
1. Prologue

**Artifact: The Saber's Odyssey**

By VaderLVR

The man hunched deeper inside his worn cloak. He was uncomfortable in my presence, as I intended him to be.

"You said that you had something of interest?" I asked him without preamble. Time was not to be wasted; the work of the Empire was endless.

"I've heard you collect Jedi artifacts," he said in a coarse accent of the Outer Rim.

"Only those which are genuine," I told him. "And I warn that I can tell the difference. It could prove unfortunate for you if you should try to deceive me."

He shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his fate. "I reckon this is as genuine as they get, Lord Vader."

And with that he held out his hand. There, nestled in his callused palm, was the hilt of a lightsaber.

I simply stared at it for a long moment. If my respirator had not prompted me to breathe, I am sure I would have held my breath. It was indeed a Jedi's lightsaber - and not just any Jedi.

This one had been used to kill a Sith.

I supposed that I should have considered that Sith my brother, though at the time of his death I was still many years away from embracing the darkness that consumed me now. His passing had eventually made room for me. There are always only two, as my Master reminded me when he felt I had committed some transgression.

My continued silence made him uneasy and he shifted restlessly on his feet. He began to pull the saber back, as if apologizing for his error.

"Wait," I commanded.

"It's a Jedi's saber, ain't it?"

I moved so that I could view it from a different angle. My first impression had been correct. "Yes."

"So it's valuable to you?" His voice had taken on a sly note which did not please me.

"Perhaps," I replied. "Certainly more valuable than your miserable life," I warned him.

He swallowed hard and his face paled; my warning had been recognized. "Of course, your lordship."

"You may leave it here and appropriate compensation will be credited to your account," I informed him. I was tired of his presence. And for some reason the thought of his filthy hands on that lightsaber troubled me.

Quickly, he placed it on a low table and scuttled out of the room. He probably considered himself lucky to have escaped with his life at that point. But I would arrange for the transfer of credits nonetheless. He might prove useful in the future and I was always aware that one could never have too many allies, even those whose loyalty was purchased. I would let him live, for the moment.

My business with the greedy treasure hunter done, my attention turned once more to the object he had brought to me.

The saber seemed to mock me, inanimate as it was.

Light gleamed dully on the metal, which had seen better days. Clearly, the weapon had not been cared for in years. Not surprising, since it was considered a crime merely to possess such a thing. It would have been hidden, passed surreptitiously from hand to hand.

Settling into a chair I continued to contemplate the object which both repelled and drew me. I could see signs of corrosion; tiny pock marks marred the surface, which distressed me. It did not seem right that such an elegant weapon was not shining and pristine.

But this lightsaber, like the man who had once wielded it, was from an age long gone.

The blade would be a glimmering green. I had seen it in action only briefly when I was a young boy. It had been a thing of beauty as it danced and leapt in his hands. Large capable hands had been utterly assured as they held it.

I could summon up an image of his hands in minute detail. I had trouble recalling his face after all these years, but those hands were as familiar to me as my own had once been, before the lava.

Qui-Gon's lightsaber was here in my quarters.

How odd that it should come to be in my possession after all that had happened.

I could remember Obi-Wan packing it away in his slain Master's bag when we left Naboo. He never spoke of having used it to strike down the Sith. But I heard the story from the other Padawans. They were thrilled to give me every gory detail, though I was sure much of what they said was manufactured in their own imaginations.

Still, this had been the blade used, of that there was no doubt.

On the very bottom of the hilt I saw Qui-Gon's mark. He would have put it there on the day he completed the construction of it. I had seen this saber in the hands of my own Jedi Master more than once.

Usually he would be in a melancholy and reflective mood as he turned this hilt over and over in his hands. I learned not to speak to him when he did so. Very quietly, I would retreat to my own room and wait for his gloom to pass.

Now I wonder what he was thinking as he held his Master's weapon in his hand. Was he mourning the man who had been like a father to him? Or was he telling Qui-Gon that he resented the burden of the slave boy he had been given to train? The latter, I would suspect.

But like so many things, this had been left behind when the last of the Jedi fled their great Temple. The very Temple I had personally destroyed, just as I had their Order.

I wonder if Obi-Wan ever grieved for this lost piece of his history. I hoped so.

And now it was one more bit of my old Master's life that I possessed. It was mine to do with as I pleased. I considered all the different ways I could destroy it. I thought about the satisfaction it would give me to obliterate something that had been dear to Kenobi. The possibilities were endless and entertaining. I mused upon them for an unknown length of time, happily contemplating one more strike against the Jedi I hated above all others.

Finally, I decided the weapon's fate.

I picked it up, finally touching it for the first time. It was well balanced, truly a fine bit of craftsmanship. Qui-Gon must have had an artist's soul, I think.

Opening that chest which contained my few personal items, I placed the old weapon carefully in one corner.

The Sith killer was now the property of a Sith. I enjoyed the irony of it as much as I was capable of enjoying anything. But I wondered what Qui-Gon would think, to have his beloved weapon nestled here in my quarters.

I suspected the thought would haunt him. All the more reason to keep it, I told myself.


	2. A Last Farewll

**Chapter 1: A Last Farewell**

Cursing under his breath, fluently and in three different languages, Obi-Wan gathered his belongings. It was, he knew, a normal reaction to the situation. But it was not the response a _Jedi _should have and that bothered him. He stopped throwing things into his bag and became still, in both his body and mind. He closed his eyes and sought the serene center that is supposed to be there for every Jedi.

Eluding him at first, his search ended when he felt the familiar peace wash over him and the tension leave his body. He opened his eyes and a slight smile appeared on his face. One last deep breath and he turned to his task once more.

Somehow, he sensed that this would be the last time he ever saw these rooms. He had shared these quarters first with his Master and then later with the apprentice that Master had bequeathed to him. Most of his life here at the Temple had been spent within these walls.

It was not really appropriate to miss a place, he acknowledged that fact. But a small corner of his heart ached at the farewell nonetheless. This was, for all purposes, his home. And he was leaving it forever.

He accepted the pang that saying farewell aroused. Then he released his feelings of sorrow to the Force with a sigh. There was nothing to do about it, and this loss was small – comparatively.

Moving quickly to the small, locked box that held the few things he held dear, he palmed the lock and lifted the lid. Not much really, when seen as the sum of a life. But true treasures could not locked away in boxes, not really.

He took out the river stone Qui-Gon had given him when he was just a boy and tucked it away in his bag. Three rare books, gifts from friends over the years, were quickly added. Even in these circumstances, the familiar feel of them brought a smile to his face.

That smile faded as he saw the last item resting on the bottom of the chest. The light reflected brightly off of Qui-Gon's saber. It belonged to the man who had put all of these events in motion. For just a moment, he struggled with the old bitterness.

"Oh, Master," he said quietly. His voice was husky with repressed tears.

Even now, he could not let the damning words pass his lips. His hand shook as he reached in for the lightsaber. It felt comfortable in his grip, almost as if it had been waiting for him to pick it up at last.

He was about to put it in the bag when he stopped and shook his head, knowing that this weapon had another destiny. The Force whispered to him, telling him what he needed to know. His time to keep it had passed, as had so many other things.

Standing up quickly, he closed the bag and slammed the lid down on the chest. The hollow thud of it seemed to be the closing of a door to his past. He took one last sweeping glance of his home and then turned and walked through the doorway without another look back. He was done here.

He found Mace Windu gathering younglings and preparing them to be transported off of Coruscant. The little ones were silent, their faces solemn. This was just the first of many transports which would be filled with Force sensitive youngsters. As quickly and unobtrusively as possible, the young ones were being sent to what they hoped was safety. They could only hope that there would be time to save them all.

"Master Windu," he said as he tapped the warrior's shoulder.

Dark, haunted eyes turned his way. A slight, but genuine smile stretched across his face even as he guided one straying youngster back into the line leading toward the quiet landing pad.

"Obi-Wan, I hoped I would see you before you left," Mace said.

"I couldn't leave without-" Obi-Wan's voice skidded to a halt. Without what? Without saying good-bye forever? For that is what this was, unless the Force gifted them both with a miracle, they would likely never see each other in this life again. And miracles seemed to be in short supply right now. "I wanted to say farewell," he finished firmly.

Mace smiled sadly and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. The time for fooling themselves was long past, and this moment was precious. They both knew it.

"May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan, as you make your journey," Master Windu said. "Your mission may be the most important one ever given to a Jedi," he added quietly. He brought his mouth close to Obi-Wan's ear. "Train the boy well when the time comes. We have faith in you," he said.

He pulled back and his face was drawn into weary lines. "You will not delay in getting the package to its destination?"

A quick shake of his head was the answer, for Obi-Wan did not trust his voice any longer.

"Good, that is all that matters now," Mace said. His eyes wandered over the children of all species and sizes getting loaded into the first transport. "And this is all we can do."

Obi-Wan held out his Master's lightsaber and dropped into Mace's hand. He cleared his throat. "You will need every weapon…" he rasped.

"You do not wish to keep it?"

"What I need to remember my Master, I carry within my heart," Obi-Wan said, his eyes bright with tears that he blinked away.

Mace nodded and his hand closed around the weapon. Obi-Wan straightened his shoulders. "May the Force be with you, Master Windu."

The two men shared one last look, each knowing that the other would face death many times in the coming days.

Obi-Wan glanced at the children one last time and then walked away. He was going to an unimportant planet in the Mid-Rim. He had a small, unmarked ship and forged papers. He carried with him a bag with some clothes, three books, and a river stone. At his belt was his own saber, and in his ship was the weapon that had belonged to his Padawan. It would one day be placed in the hands of his son, if the Force was willing.

Mace Windu stared after the knight whose stride did not falter and who did not look back. Silently, he bid him a safe journey. He knew he would not see Obi-Wan Kenobi ever again. His mission was vital and secret, the hope of the Order rested on those heavily burdened shoulders.

He considered the lightsaber in his hands. Mace thought about its owner, Qui-Gon Jinn, and the face of the man who had put all of this into motion drifted before him. Clipping it to his belt with a quick and fervent prayer that it would be used wisely and well, he turned back to his task.


End file.
